Peace Under a Jerusalem Sun
by HaloNoir
Summary: A rewrite of the last MarianxGuy scene of season two if you watch the show, you'll know which I mean! Written under the condition that a certain character could NOT be saved...


There was a sharp intake of breath. Her pink lips a soft _oh_ of surprise. No. What had he done? Her blue eyes looked up at him, questioning him. Why?

"Oh God!" He cried, the reality sunk in as the two of them met the ground, sand and blood mixing together.

"Marian, forgive me, please forgive me, I will save you, I will right this wrong!" He is about to continue but he feels her hands curl into his jacket, and suddenly there are no more words.

"Guy…" the words are choked and dry like the lands she will die in. Her words seem to fail her too, and he holds her close, aware of the sword still buried in her stomach. Next to the wound he gave her not even a year ago. It is then that he lets out a sob, racked, racked with grief, with guilt.  
"Why? Why can we only ever hurt each other?" He asks, desperately. Her eyes water, but she does not break eye contact. He accidentally brushes against the sword and she chokes on her ragged breaths. He holds her to him, the King of England lying forgotten in the courtyard.

She tries to steady her breathing – a futile battle, he knows, he has seen men die before. He wants to remove the sword but knows it will be the end of her, but perhaps that would be a blessing? She is beyond rescue or redemption now.

"Guy," her voice is steelier now, and more determined, "The King? Where is the King?" He almost laughs. Even now, as she is crossing over from this life, her thoughts are only for her country. He throws a look to the figure that is beginning to stir.  
"He will live."

"Guy, please protect him!" Her eyes widen as if she has made some realisation, "I have nothing to offer you now. But I beg, do it in my memory."  
He cannot sustain his gaze and he lets his sobs take her as buries his face into the white cotton of her dress, quickly staining red.

"Of course Marian. Anything. Forgive me, forgive me…" He feels her hand in his hair and hates himself for being comforted by a dying woman. He should be stronger. For himself. For England. For her.

"There is nothing to forgive. It is me who needs forgiveness now. Forgive me for my manipulations. Forgive me, for I did not tell the truth. I am stirred by you, Guy," He raises his head, not daring to hear what she might say; "I do care for you. And for all my sins, I _do _love you, Guy."

His heart feels fit to tear, whether from gratitude, sadness or happiness. He has the sudden urge that Hood should come running towards them, that he might be able to bring her back; maybe his Saracen has some magic up his sleeve. But a desperate look around the square reveals only one man watching.

The Sherriff of Nottingham stands above the King, gappy smile plastered across his face, as he roles his sovereign over.

"Wait for me Marian." He says, laying her softly down. She lets out only the smallest of whimpers. He trudges towards Vasey, head obscured by his hair; he will not give his _master_ the satisfaction of seeing him like this.

"Oh, Gisbourne. Finally got rid of the leper, did we?" Guy makes a noise in his throat, no longer able to speak, he hopes it will suffice. In his hand he feels the sharp tip of the claw dagger dig into his palm.

"Righto, Kingy, time to meet your maker!" The Sherriff declares in his usual melodramatic way. Guy almost regrets what he is about to do. Almost. As Vasey swings his blade above his head, Gisbourne lashes out. There is a brief moment of tranquillity as both men process what has just happened. Then the older man staggers backwards, dropping his sword, bringing his hands to his throat as a torrent of crimson begins to flow.

Guy turns, no desire to stay and listen to the final abuses of his former mentor. These moments are too precious. Marian lies still, upon the sands and the sword, protruding out of her, remind him, gruesomely, of the legend of Excalibur. He thinks for a moment that she has already gone, not sure whether he is pleased or stricken, but as he gets closer he hears her raspy breaths.

"I have done it," her eyes turn to him again, in confusion, "I have killed the Sherriff of Nottingham. For you. The King is safe now."  
She smiles and opens her hand towards him. He crouches and takes her hand in his. She is cold, even in the foreign sun.

"Thank you," she closes her eyes, "but I have one last favour to beg. Please, please remove the sword." It will kill her. Both know this but neither will admit it. She reaches her free hand to the blade, willing to do it herself. He cannot let her. He will be strong now. He removes the gloves from his shaking hands and places them over hers. He pulls. She lets out a feeble cry but there is relief there. Her head lolls to the side and he cannot hold himself back, he kisses her upon those pink lips, one last time. She kisses him back and he knows, for once, that her words were not false. He hears men coming and he is about to tell her that her love, her true love is coming. But she is silent now.

"Marian!" He hears the bellow. Before he can even looks up he knows what will happen. He is numb as he feels the blow hit him square in the chest. Hood never misses his target.

Guy slumps back, knees doubled under him, as though caught in the act of praise. He blinks, weary, at the Jerusalem sun. A figure approaches him, slowing as he sees his love.

"She loved you. Know that." He murmurs, hoping the words will reach him, he who he hated for so long. They were more similar than either would admit.

"The King is safe. Vasey is gone" And with that, his task is done.

Turning towards Marian once again, he takes in her soft features, peaceful now, and smiles.

"Wait for me, on the green fields of Heaven, Marian." At last, he is free now.

Much approches his weeping master. Weeping for his love. For his enemy who was not as they believed. For their lost innocence. Robin was upon the ground near Marian, though not touching her. Much gazed upon the two fallen soldiers and noticed their hands, though dirty, and blood stained, they were twined and Much thought he had never seen a sadder, nor lovelier sight.

"Master? Master, do you not see?"

Robin looked up at his friend, questioningly.

Robin hung his head in grief, but could only agree as his stronger friend spoke again:

"She-_They_ are at peace now."


End file.
